


Zuul - Rubicon Primaris

by noktern



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Gen, Wrath & Glory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noktern/pseuds/noktern
Summary: The Cicatrix Maledictum has torn the Imperium in two.  Roboute Guilliman has returned and the Indomitous Crusade rises to shine the Light of the Emperor on those besieged in this new Dark Millenium.  Beyond the region of Warpstorms known as the Briar, agents of the Regent and the Inquisition engage in on-going shadowy offensives against the enemies of man.  Re-emerging Xenos Empires, servants of the Ruinous Powers, and traitors to the Imperium all are targets for the Kill Teams, Fleets, and even rediscovered Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes.
Kudos: 1





	Zuul - Rubicon Primaris

**Author's Note:**

> This character bit was written as a short introduction to Zuul for a tabletop game I'm playing using the Wrath & Glory RPG from Cubicle 7. Night of Storms is still being written but life has not been kind as of late.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this small piece.
> 
> Nok

The Rogue Trader ship, His Pride and Joy, battered its way through the tides of the warp. In service to Inquisitor Belock, the heavily modified Emperor class warship served many roles but none so vital as to ferry one of his elite Kill Teams from campaign to campaign. The scars of fifty-plus years of near-constant warfare writ deeply into the adamantine and titanium hull.

The glow from a single candle partially illuminated the arming chamber’s darkness. For the chamber’s solitary occupant, the single candle was more than enough for him to see. The golden light danced with the shadows, occasionally revealing glimpses of the massive figure seated at the chamber’s workbench. The scents of lapping powder, incense, and sacred machine oil hovered in the air while, spread across the workbench, lay the components of a Shrike pattern bolt rifle. The figure paused in its minute inspection of a long barrel before laying it down atop a small pile of similarly rejected barrels. The figure sighed. Replacement parts worthy of the master-crafted rifle were not easy to find. In this case, perhaps one in twenty barrels were of high enough quality to match the superb craftmanship.

Picking up the last remaining unsorted rifle barrel on the table, the figure began to inspect it. This one would do. Pale, scarred hands, many times a mortal man’s in size, reassembled the bolt rifle with quick, agile motions before testing the rifle’s action and trigger sensitivity. Seemingly satisfied, the figure rose and silently approached the opposite wall, placing the weapon alongside its siblings on heavily reinforced racks. The bolt rifle dominated the wall section alongside an Instigator Bolt Carbine, Inferno Pistol, and a black power sword with a heavy but shorter leaf-shaped blade. The figure reached and touched the sword, fingertips lingering on the wire wrapped hilt. It had been remade to his specifications; it’s power field and length modified to make it a more efficient killing tool for his style of warfare.

A vox alert shattered the figure’s momentary reverie. “All hands prepare for warp translation,” the Lord Captain’s voice, calm and composed, was loud in the small space. “T-minus one-hundred-nine minutes. Stand by.” A few seconds later, a small light began to flash on the wrist-mounted micro-vox unit.  The figure turned its head, the glow from the candle illuminating its side profile. A short beard, black as coal, framed a pale face rigged with acid scars on one cheek and eyes like pools of shadows. He touched the blinking light, opening the vox. Lord Captain Vorgen’s voice sounded tinny. “Sargeant Zuul,” His Pride and Joy’s commander sounded cheerful. “We will be arriving in the system within the next few hours. I would appreciate it if you would join me on the bridge.”

He was quiet a moment longer. “Acknowledged my Lord Captain, and, might I say, that once again, your continued service to the Emperor and his Servants is a credit to your dynasty.” A smile, marred by the scaring, appeared on his face as he spoke.  _ Once more to don the mask of the trickster and fool. To witness our Father’s melancholy would only erode their confidence.  _ “I shall endeavour to fly to your side.”

“My thanks, Sargeant.” Zuul caught the slight tone of sarcasm in the Lord Captain’s voice. “ One more thing, the crew is on high alert, do you think we can avoid you playing your ‘Raven Games’ on your way to the bridge this time?”

He chuckled softly. During the long interstellar voyages, he would keep his skills honed by hunting various members of the crew and marking them with specialized rounds that left the Mark of the Raven somewhere on their personages. “Don’t worry my dear Captain, I’ve exhausted my supply of ammunition for the moment.”

“Praise Him on Earth.” 

“Indeed. Zuul, out.” He closed the channel, the smile falling off his face as easily as it arrived. Turning, he pinched the flame of the candle between his thumb and forefinger. “Cogitator, increase illumination to standard levels and prepare arming protocol.”

As the lumens in the arming chamber activated, Zuul began removing the plain black and white Raven Gaurd fatigues. The arming chamber, though larger than it initially appeared seemed almost cramped with Zuul within it. A sensation that was even more pronounced since he had crossed the Rubicon.

Arranged on one wall Zuul’s weapons along with the tools to repair or modify them. On the wall, directly opposite lay the workbench, tools, and door to his apartments. Of the two remaining walls, one was dominated by trophies and a small alcove which he had dedicated to the Emperor and his gene father, Corvus Corax. Inset into the final wall was the large reliquary where his armour rested on a pneumatic armour stand. Once, not that long ago, a suit of Mark III power armour had resided within. Now a customized suite of Mark X Phobos armour had taken its place.

The door to the arming chamber opened a red-robed adept of the Adeptus Mechanicus. “Lord Zuul,” it said bowing, “shall we begin?”

The former scout sergeant nodded as he adjusted the black bodyglove so that the import plugs in his skin were accessible. “Proceed Magos.” Bowing, the Martian Priest activated the control panel on the reliquary. Heavy doors opened with a slight hiss of pressurized air revealing the black enamelled ceramite. 

A heavy arming servitor unfolded itself from its alcove within the reliquary and stepped into the chamber. “P-0E Omega online.” It said it’s once human voice blended with the vox emitters to give it a mechanical second voice. “Awaiting instructions.”

Zuul approached the reliquary, his feet not making even the slightest whisper on the deck. “Begin arming protocols,” he said, as the armour rack extended from within. “The Emperor’s foes are waiting.”


End file.
